


Bedwarmers

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, dealing with break ups, post-Crestwood, sorry about all the angst lately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting dumped by Solas, the Inquisitor finds it difficult to sleep. That's when the cats start showing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedwarmers

She thought that she’d be used to an empty bed by now.

When he left, he _left_. He’d always been a tidy man of few possessions, probably the result of his years of nomadic wandering. But he knew that she liked to find him there in her room, and a stray book, a robe to keep off the chill—little things in the chamber to make it theirs. If she awoke in the night and he was gone, there was always something there that she could hold close until he returned. Silly, she knew, but she was slowly growing used to life in one place, and she drew comfort from her growing collection of mementos.

When she’d returned from Crestwood, there’d been no trace that he’d ever been in her room— not living in it, at least. The only reminder of him was the mural crowning the wall above her bed, a “welcome to your new home” gift he’d given her when they first reached Skyhold. He’d left the books he’d found for her studies, no doubt hoping they could still be of help for the cause. There was nothing of him left; only the practical and impersonal remained.

And Cole, bless him, the spirit had tried to help. But with the amulet keeping his spirit form free, the boy was even more flighty than before, and while his heart was often in the right place, he’d lost some of his understanding of the way mortal thoughts worked. He flitted in and out during the night, holding her when she cried and talking her out of her anger. But even his presence didn’t help, not completely, and as her heart numbed, his visits grew more and more infrequent.

Of course, Crestwood had been weeks ago, long since water under the bridge. They’d talked about it like civilized adults. She’d shouted at him in a moment of weakness and he’d said nothing to defend himself. So then she’d decided to try ignoring him, focusing on the final battle they faced. Emotions had cooled to a point where she could speak to him without betraying too much of what she felt—the time she’d spent preparing for Orlais had finally been of some use after all.

Still, they were nearing the end of all of their efforts, she could feel it. She spent her days finishing last minute preparations and crafting the most advanced gear possible to ensure that they were all safe in what was most likely the final showdown. Everyone was tense, focused on preparing for what was to come, anxious to get it over with, frightened by what that battle might bring. She retired to her room exhausted, knowing that they would have to move soon.

But she still had trouble sleeping in an empty bed.

Bull told her that there were three things to help you fall asleep: A hard day’s work, a long pull at the tap, and sex. The last was no longer an option—oh, she knew several men who would offer their services, but she had no interest in a casual fling, and she had no intentions of opening her heart to anyone ever again. She was grateful that Cullen was not crass enough to make overt gestures of affection or take advantage of the situation. He was a good man, a far kinder soul who deserved better than what she could offer him at this point. She hoped he would find someone who could love him as he should be loved.

Still, no sex meant that she’d have to try something else. And drinks had helped, at least at first, but she was a restless sleeper on those nights, and if she did not wake to find herself wandering the halls, she would wander the murky realm of the Fade, her glowing palm the only light source in world void of any comfort or solace.

When the drinks failed her, it left her with exertion and hard work. This seemed to help more than the drinking, although it left her aching and sore in the morning, and it still got them no closer to finding and defeating Corypheus. As she worked, her mind turned to thoughts of the Inquisition and her friends, and, inevitably, to him. The damned voices in the Well were a constant echo, murmuring inaudible complaints and mocking laughs as she tried to imagine what she had done to turn him away.

The servants made no complaint when she took to sleeping in a nest of blankets in the balcony above her bed. She’d carried them herself, kept the spot tidy and clean, and avoided the bed altogether. Doubtless they whispered about it in the halls; she’d felt the looks, seen the mixed looks of pity and amusement. Bad enough to have her own people talking about her, but it was a bit much to keep a pleasant façade when guests tried plying her with even more fancy Orlesian beds in an effort to “cure” her of her melancholy and curry favor.

Today had been like many of the days that came before. She ignored the stares on her back, pulling open the door to her quarters and then leaning against it when it closed. Another day done, another night ahead. She sighed, scrubbing her face with the back of her palms, then pushed herself off of the door and up the long flight of stairs.

She should have asked the healer for a drought of dreamless sleep, but she hadn’t felt up to another lecture, and didn’t feel like sending a servant to get it for her. She’d just have to risk it, then. If she fell asleep and dreamed, well… A demon couldn’t tempt you if you ignored it and just laid back to stare at the sky until you woke up, could it? She shut the door to her chambers with a heavy thump, the made her way up the last flight of stairs.

It took her several minutes to realize that she was not alone in the room. The fire was lit, as it normally was when she retired. There had been no change to the room, no new papers or books added, and while things had been straightened and cleaned, nothing was out of order. But as she peeled off the top layer of her clothes, she saw a shift of movement and froze, realizing it had come from the bed.

Turning the movement into a stretch, she casually walked over to her desk on the pretense of finding a book to read. In reality, she was hunting for the letter opener Josie had given her, a sharp little tool that put some daggers to shame. She found the little knife and the weight was a welcome touch to her hand.

She abruptly turned, knife held at the ready, but the little black cat on the bed seemed rather nonplussed. Oh, it stopped its grooming long enough to give her a baleful stare, offended that she’d interrupted his bath, but it was quickly back to cleaning itself when she did not present it with any food.

She watched it for several minutes, trying to fathom how the thing could have gotten into her rooms when her doors were tightly closed and locked. It didn’t feel magical, and as useless as they’d been for most everything else she’d asked, the voices of the Well did not seem to think it was anything more than a contented house cat. Perhaps it had come in with one of the servants, hidden under the bed while they cleaned, and claimed its spot on the comforter when the activity settled down and it found itself trapped in the room.

She’d heard that cats always looked for the most comfortable places where they were not supposed to be, and it was a nice bed, a massive frame filled with furs and soft bedding that felt like sleeping in haystacks under a summer sky of stars. Of all the monstrosities her admirers had sent, this was by far the most practical and comfortable. It was a shame that the bed was filled with old, happy memories and his scent – as it was, she couldn’t sleep in it anymore.

She approached bed and cat with no little confusion, sheathing the knife now that she knew there was no danger. When she sat on the bed to get a closer look, the cat stood up, stretched, then walked over. It threw its body against her arm, purring loudly, trying to wriggle its way into her lap. She laughed and scooted back on the bed, leaning against the back board and crossing her legs to let the little animal nestle down for a bit. She’d need to let it out before she went to sleep, of course, but it was nice to have the company, at least for a little while.

Still, she was rather tired, and she had another long day ahead of her. She should get up and kick the cat out of the room, but when she shifted positions, the cat complained, giving her a reproachful meow. When she moved, it simply moved with her, melting against her calves and purring louder. She sighed, petting it gently.

“You can stay a bit longer,” she said, and scratched the beast behind the ears. “But only for a bit. I have things to do, you know.”

The cat only gave a contented purr, stretched, and further molded itself against her legs. She fell into an almost hypnotic rhythm, petting the cat and breathing deeply with each stroke. The stress of the day lifted as they sat there, and it wasn’t long before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

She woke up the next morning on top of the bed, cat curled close by her side. At some time during the night she’d sunk down to lie on the bed proper, even if she was still above the covers. Squinting, she looked out the windows, trying to judge the time. The sun was already high over the mountains—it must be mid morning at least. Josie would have a fit, she was supposed to meet with some of the merchant representatives for armor and weapons, and there was the meeting just before lunch with Leliana and the Archivist to review some of the documents about Corypheus’ movements.

She groaned and sunk her face into the pillows. If she pretended she was sick, maybe she could just fall asleep again and stay in bed for a few more days. Unfortunately, this move was a mistake. The pillow she’d pressed her face to was his, and his scent enveloped her, sharp and warm, flooding her senses. She sat up abruptly and pulled away, waking the cat with the unexpected movement. It complained at the disturbance and jumped away, disgusted.

She forced herself to take a few steadying breaths, forcing down the unexpected reaction and mentally berating herself for being so weak. Damn him anyway. Anger was easier to deal with than misery, because she could siphon that into something more productive. Sadness sapped at your strength and willpower; better to be angry, since that added power to your strikes, even if it diminished your focus. Damn him.

The cat sneezed and shook itself, distracting her from her dour mood. She tried focusing on the cat instead, watching it pad over to ewer and basin by her dressing table. It leapt onto the table and lapped at the water in the bowl. Fortunately, the water was clean, if a bit stale. Once it finished with its drink, the cat then continued its way over to her desk.

It was then that she saw the platter of food that had been left there for her. Apparently the servants had slipped in while she slept, and she’d been so tired that she hadn’t heard them. Her main chambermaid was a quiet slip of a girl, to be sure, but even the quietest maid made noise, and the tray seemed well laden with food.

The fact that they had not yet disturbed her meant that Josie and Leliana had decided it would be better for her to rest than work today. That was a relief; she really was exhausted. It wouldn’t do for her to get to Corypheus, just to stumble at the final fight because she was too tired to lift her arms.

The cat was into the breakfast meats before she had a chance to whisk the platter away from it, although she didn’t begrudge the creature a shared meal. As usual, the servants had sent up more than she could think of eating on her own—something she’d scolded them about in the past, wasting food when they had so many other mouths to feed.

 _Well,_ she thought, watching the cat tear through the eggs with gusto, _I suppose this is one of those other mouths to feed._

She ended up eating fruit and toast that morning, and when she left her room she made sure to boot the cat out and close the door tightly behind her to avoid a repeat. She didn’t want the thing locked in there, given that her schedule was unpredictable and it no doubt had other things to do than just sleep the day away on her bed.

Feeling more refreshed than she had felt in some time, she made it to the rotunda’s rookery in time to catch a part of the meeting with Leliana and the archivist. The spy mistress raised a delicate eyebrow but said nothing. Fortunately, the archivist was too excited about the revelations his latest research had yielded, and he spent a majority of the meeting in animated discourse of an old journal recently acquired by the team.

She was able to slip away without having to explain herself to Leliana, and headed off in search of Josie to reschedule the morning meeting she’d missed. Rather than be upset, the ambassador was delighted to hear that she’d gotten a good night’s sleep, and assured her that the negotiations had proceeded better than hoped.

The rest of the day was equally uneventful. Her afternoon training went well enough, and she’d been able to finish some letters and other lingering bits of paperwork that she’d been postponing for a few days. She’d even had time enough left over to sit with some of the men for dinner and drinks in the evening. Well, Bull had more or less insisted upon it, and when she allowed him to finagle her into one of the seats, the Chargers around the table seemed genuinely happy to have her join them. So, it was a welcome change from her usual nights of dinner eaten in bites between trade agreements and document signings.

She retired to her rooms later than usual, waving off the insistent calls for her to try to drink Bull under the table. She wended her way through the hall with a bit of a smile on her face, allowing her thoughts to linger over the indulgence of good company and hearty food. She almost tripped over the little black cat that sat curled at the base of the stairs.

Its reproaching yowl prevented her from stepping on its tail, and she stopped, laughing at the glare it gave her. She looked around the hall, but there were few people about, most of the keep having retired for the night. She bent down to pick it up, and it immediately began to purr.

“I wasn’t expecting company tonight,” she said, opening the door and walking through with the cat in hand. “Still, so long as you promise to behave I suppose you can stay, at least for a little while. Don’t think I’m going to let you make a habit of it, though.”

The cat leapt out of her arms when they reached her room at last, and immediately took its place on her bed. She shook her head and headed over to her wardrobe to find her sleeping robes. A cat wasn’t a halla, of course, but it was nice to have something warm, something living in the room with her. Besides, she was pretty sure that the staff would have a fit if she tried to get one of her harts up into her room, not to mention any complaints of Dennet. The only thing worse for her reputation would be for her to try sleeping in the stables. Josie would never recover from the shame.

She made her way over to the bed and petted the black cat, scratching under its chin as it raised its head into her caress. That was when she noticed that they’d been joined by not one, but two more cats. Two tawny tabbies lay curled on the bed, their fur blending into the deerskin folds of her comforter. They gave her sleepy looks when she reached over to pet them, but they made it clear that they had no intentions of moving, and that if she wanted to spend the night on the bed, it would be on their terms, not hers.

She hesitated, biting her thumb as she looked at them. Three cats was a bit of a crowd, even if they seemed to gravitate to one side of the bed. And she still wasn’t happy about the idea of sleeping in the bed, empty or filled with cats. But the evening before had been nice, having the little ball of warmth by her side.

She picked up the black cat and ignored its protests, heading towards the ladder that led up to her loft hideaway. She foisted it up before her, then climbed the rungs until she could see the floor where she’d made her makeshift bed. The stone floor was clean, but empty. Apparently her servants assumed that one night asleep on the bed meant that she had decided to go back to regular sleeping habits. As if to make a point, the cat looked back at her, twitched its tail, then leapt over the wall to land with a squeak of protesting bed springs.

She sighed and climbed back down, too tired to haul up more blankets to reinstate her nest. She’d have to do something tomorrow, but for tonight, she’d avail herself to the chaise by the stairs. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d fallen asleep there. She grabbed one of the unoccupied blankets and curled up on the sofa, carefully arranging pillows to make it as comfortable as possible.

The little black cat joined her as soon as she’d found a more or less comfortable position, curling up on her chest and using her shoulder like a pillow. She was tempted to move it—no doubt she’d wake up with some terrible kinks in her shoulder—but the deep rumbling purr convinced her to stay still, at least for a little while. Cats were fickle creatures, after all, and it would be sure to leave her at some point in the night.

As it was, when she woke up the next morning, the cat had moved—to sit on her feet. The spot on her chest was now occupied by one of the tawny tabbies, and its mate had settled in her lap. Despite her companions, she wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, although if she’d known that they’d all join her in the night, she’d have made more of an effort to make a bedroll to sleep on, something she could use to fully stretch out her limbs.

A bath might help soak out the kinks, and if she remembered correctly, she didn’t have any meetings until mid afternoon. Of course, that was because she’d promised to get through the mountain of paperwork and to spend time reading Leliana’s reports, not to mention thinking over how many expeditions they could safely send when they were so very close to a full attack against Corypheus. Still, one could easily think over strategy while immersed in soapy water, and if she was very careful, she could read documents without splashing them.

With that plan in mind, she carefully extracted herself from the pile of cats and pulled the bell rope to summon one of the chamber maids. If she could get her breakfast to go, she could hide in the bathing chamber for most of the morning.

As she waited for her food, she sorted through her wardrobe, looking for some clothes for the day. Nothing exciting, since she didn’t actually have to meet with anyone today. Something comfortable, maybe, and then she could return to her room to finish the morning’s work at her desk.

One of the tabbies butted against her leg as she sifted through clothes, weaving around her ankles and jumping up to rub its face against her knees. She set aside the clothes and walked over to the bed, the cat following suit. When she sat down, it leapt up and brushed against her, tail straight, purr set to full blast. She laughed as the other two cats came onto the bed as well, vying for attention.

“I haven’t got any food for you,” she said, lifting her arm as the black cat wound its way around her lap. “And I really don’t think that you should be in here. If I find you in here again, I’ll boot the lot of you out the door.”

The door to her room opened, and the three cats jumped down and raced down the stairs. The Inquisitor heard a yelp of alarm as the woman carrying her breakfast tray dealt with the sudden barrage of cats. Remli stood, quickly walking over to the stairs to see if the woman needed assistance, but the maid laughed breathlessly, finishing her walk up the stairs and moving the tray to the massive desk.

“Good mornin’, your worship!” she said cheerfully, picking up the kettle to pour a measure of tea. “Quite a greeting your little friends gave me—had I know they were here, I would’ve brought some extra morsels for the dears. It’s good to see you’ve got some pets with you.”

“I’m not sure where they came from,” replied the Inquisitor, giving the woman a smile as she picked up the mug of tea. “I thought they might’ve followed someone in, perhaps when they were bringing wood for the fire, or dropping off letters.”

“Oh, no, my lady!” said the woman, paling slightly. “We’d never let any creatures in here. You’d never know if they were a mage in disguise or not, not til it was too late to do anything.” She bit her lip, looking down the stairs. “Shall I ask Lady Leliana’s people to track them down and make sure?”

Remli laughed, waving aside the woman’s worries. “I’m sure they’re fine. Solas told me—“ she stumbled over the thought, remembering the night he’d placed the wards around her room. She’d laughed and called him paranoid, and he’d said he’d rather be paranoid and know that she was protected than come up one night to find one of the ravens sitting on the balcony and watching.

She sighed, shaking her head to clear it of the memory. “The wards of the room will not allow any unauthorized access to the room. I was assured that this included mages in any form.”

“Still, I’ll look into it if you’d like,” said the woman, walking over to the fire to add some logs. “I’m not sure how else they’d have gotten in, if you hadn’t invited them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Remli assured her. She sipped the tea, adding that thought to her mental list of things to ponder while soaking in the tub downstairs. “A few cats in the room never hurt anyone. I’ll start to worry if they keep showing up in greater numbers.”

“Alright, your worship,” agreed the woman, although she sounded less sure about the plan.

“I’ll be taking a bath this morning while I work on some of the awful paperwork,” Remli said brightly, trying to change the subject. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be down there for a while, then I’ll come back up here. I’d like to take lunch here, unless someone decides they’ve desperately got to talk to me for one reason or another.”

“Very well, my lady,” said the woman, curtsying. “I’ll inform the others that you do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Thank you,” replied Remli, sitting down to tuck into her meal. She paused, though, lowering her fork and knife as a thought came to her. “When you speak to the others, could you ask them about bringing up some bowls for the cats? If they’re going to start showing up in my room, I may as well have something up here for them.”

 

Apparently Skyhold had far more cats than she’d originally realized, and her new companions were more persistent than anticipated. As she moved about the keep, as soon as she sat down or paused to do something, she often found a furry companion had either followed her there, or was waiting for her when she got to where she needed to be. For almost a week there was not a room she could enter without having at least one cat within an arm span’s distance.

The number of her companions also seemed to swell when she retired for the evening, at one point reaching ten cats of varying sizes, ages, and colors. All of them seemed intent on claiming some spot near her, and any attempts to sleep in her balcony nest or on the couch meant that her entourage would follow suit. In the end, she’d wound up on the bed—not by choice, but it was hard to remember anyone else being there with so many cats sprawled out across the expanse of the bed.

Once he’d learned of it, Varric teased her incessantly about it.

“I’m not saying that they’re showing up because you’re secretly a mage and you’re pulling some weird summoning shit,” he said over a mug of ale, “I’m just saying that they seem to be magically drawn to you, that’s all.”

“You think there’s a spell that summons cats? Or some sort of sigil to mark a target? Someone just looked at me and thought, ‘Hmm, she could use more cats in her life’?” she asked, smirking a bit. Varric gave her a rueful smile.

“When weird shit happens, it’s usually something related to magic,” he replied, shrugging a bit. “I’m a dwarf, we don’t do magic, and even though you’re not a mage, you might have some elfy-insight into it.” When she snorted, he chuckled. “Well, alright, maybe not. And no, there probably isn’t a spell to summon cats, or Blondie would’ve used it in Kirkwall.”

“I simply do not understand why they just started showing up,” cut in Cassandra, absently petting one of the Inquisitors new followers. “You did not change your bedtime rituals, did you?”

“Well… no, not really,” Remli admitted, swirling the brew in her cup and trying to think if she’d changed anything. Other than moving up to her hideaway, not much had changed, and she’d stopped sleeping in the bed weeks before the little black cat showed up.

“It’s a good thing you’re not allergic to them, Boss,” Bull laughed, downing his mug and picking up the jug to refill it. “Dorian gets all sniffley when they get near—he says it’s due to them being evil spirits in disguise, but I think it’s cause he led a sheltered life where he didn’t get exposed to them at an early age. What doesn’t kill you builds up an immunity!” he cheered.

“Regardless,” said Cassandra, bringing the conversation back around, “If you are not unhappy with them joining you in the evening, and the mages are sure that they’re not some ploy of the Venatori, we can leave that mystery until after Corypheus is defeated.”

“I like having the company,” Remli admitted, plucking a wedge of cheese from a plate in the middle of the table. “And they keep the bed rather toasty, which is a nice side effect. It’s not that different from sleeping with halla, except that they’re smaller and have longer tails. There’s a comfort in sleeping with an animal by your side.”

Her chewing slowed as she thought on that, and while the others moved on to chatting about nefarious plots involving sentient plants as practical defenses, Remli started to put the pieces in place. When she bid the others goodnight, instead of heading out the door and into the courtyard, she walked up the steps to the top of the inn, looking for answers.

She found Cole where he usually was, crouching over her little black-furred friend. Cole held up a string for the little beast, jouncing the toy back and forth and spurring the cat on to a merry chase. She knelt beside him, watching them play.

“It was you, letting them into my room,” she said at last, patting the cat as it moved around her ankles and chewed on the string.

“I wanted to help,” he replied, ducking his head and hiding his face from her. She patted him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him that she was not upset.

“I know, Cole. Thank you. It has helped a bit,” she admitted. He sucked in a breath, muttering her thoughts as they came to him.

“ _It’s so cold, I can’t stay here. Better to hide away and pretend, try to forget. Sheets that smell of him, it’s empty and cold like the grave. It hurts to breathe and remember_ ,” he looked up at her at last. “The cats don’t mind sharing the bed with you. They like the meat you give them in the morning.”

“Why cats?” she asked, sitting down beside him so that the cat could curl into her lap. Cole watched, but shrugged.

“Cats can see me,” he said. “And they listen. And they like warm things. They like to help keep the bed warm. There aren’t any halla here in the stables. And you don’t like the smell of dogs.”

“True enough,” she agreed, patting the cat absently. “Although ten is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Cats can see spirits and demons,” Cole replied. “They can keep the bad dreams away so you can sleep. I just help them get into the room.” He turned a solemn face to her. “It’s almost time.”

“I know,” she said, her hand stilling on the cat, then clenching some of its fur into her fist. He patted her on the head, the same way she’d patted the cat in her lap.

“It hurt to see you so sad. Seeing you happy helped them,” he said, not really bothering to explain who the ‘them’ was. It could be either her companions, or it could be the cats. One could never really tell with Cole, although that didn't make the sentiment any less appreciated.

“Will you stand with me, Cole?” she asked, reaching up to hold his hand. She’d been trying to figure out the people she’d take with her to the final front line, who she might ask to risk everything and face Corypheus head on. Defeating Corypheus would certainly help a lot of people.

He brightened, giving her a shy smile.

“Yes,” he said, picking up the string for the cat again. “I promised the cats I would bring the bedwarmer back in one piece.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not saying that my Inquisitor became a crazy cat lady... I'm just saying that there's no evidence that she *didn't*. :p


End file.
